


Letters Home

by Blankspace0103 (orphan_account)



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2014-02-12
Updated: 2014-09-12
Packaged: 2018-01-12 02:50:28
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 8,845
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1181033
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/Blankspace0103
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Based off Radical Face's Letters Home.</p><p>Link to video: http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=vTNSRe6uCA0</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Letters Home

**Author's Note:**

> Debating a part two/more.... comments?

_So, I’m writing’ you this letter between rests_

_‘cause yesterday a bullet found my chest_

 

Stiles closes his eyes for a moment, taking in a labored breath. Derek was going to kill him. Straight up fucking murder him cause he’d totally backed out of his promises to ya know, not do anything stupid or get shot. In fact, he had managed to break both promises in one go. To be fair, he honest to god hadn’t thought the child would shoot. Didn’t really expect her to know how to work a gun. And she was so sweet and precious looking that he’d just wanted to help her. So he’d walked right up, in his under shirt with a bright smile.

 

_And I don’t got the energy to dress myself_

_And I can’t walk without help_

 

Also, he was not sure where those pretty sweet nurses from all of those old military channel movies came from, but the military nurses he’d met… a little less then gentle and not at all friendly. Granted, there were others who were bleeding out of their brains and missing limbs and who hadn’t willingly walked right into the bullet. Also, he was pretty sure there was a limit on how many times one was allowed to visit the Sick Bay and he was quite sure his dumb ass antics landing him here once a week violated that. It kinda sucked also, to be in nothing but his running shorts and socks with his chest all bandaged up. It was hot and sticky and he wanted nothing more then the cool relief of his mesh shirt. But he also missed the way the BDU jacket created a kinda cool environment as the day went on. (It wasn’t so bad as long as you didn’t focus on the fact that it was your own stinky, smelly sweat creating the nice damp material cooling in the breeze.)

 

_And I… I can’t remember why I joined this war_

_And I can’t tell you what we’re fighting’ for_

 

Some days he wondered if he’d ever known what the war was about. Who had the bright idea that a bunch of fresh faced highschool graduates where capable of decided what to do with their life? Better yet, whose bright idea was it to hand a bunch of eighteen year old BOYS guns and stick them half way across the world? Stiles wasn’t one to regret decisions. Not even the bad ones. However, he would make an exception here and say yeah, ok, maybe he should have listened to his dad, and Derek, and all of his high school friends. College couldn’t have been that bad…

 

_I guess I wasn’t smart enough to see the game_

_And that no one’s keeping’ score_

 

There had been a time when he had though he was doing this for the sake of patriotism. And maybe he had. Sure, ‘Merica had her problems, but it was still his country and he had always been willing to defend those he loved to the death. He just- sixteen years was a long time. He missed his dad and Scott. Missed Derek, the dorky grumpy paramedic who’d volunteered here one summer. He missed his kids. And Lydia and Danny. Even fucking Jackson. He wanted to see Kira and Scott’s little tyke, and hassle Issac and Allison about when they were gonna pop out a little brat. Mostly he just wanted to know that all this fighting, all the deaths, all the lost comrades and broken families, and missing sons and daughters were worth it. Certainly America was safe by now. There had been no attacks on the home front in at least six years. Clean up couldn’t take that long. Sometimes, Stiles didn’t blame the citizens slinging guns back and forth. After almost two decades he was certain he’d want invaders with their tanks and guns to leave his land. Honestly, he couldn’t remember the last time they faced violent terrorist instead of terrified dads and sons protecting mothers and sisters. ———————————————————————————————————————————————-------------------------------------------------------------------------

_And now, you would not believe the things_

_I miss It’s all the little things that fill that list_

He had always assumed that he would miss things like Starbucks, and video game and doritos, (which granted, he did miss a little.) He also though things like his heated shower and custom bed would matter a little more.

 

_Like playing’ with the dogs_

_And helping’ father chop the wood behind the fence_

 

Mostly he just missed beds and showers in general. He missed the smell of Derek’s coffee in the morning and Allison’s smile when he and Issac were bickering. He missed Ericka punching his shoulder and Boyd drinking him under the table. He missed Scott and Kira nagging him for play dates. He missed his dad. Just missed his dad. If he could see him, right now, he’d probably give him all of the curly fries and grease burgers he could lay his hands on and just squeeze him. He missed little Jolene and Parker. And even snotty little Sam who pulled the dogs by the tails and smeared cake on the walls and peed wherever she pleased and was probably secretly his favorite tho he’d never tell her, even though she was eleven and had taken to smearing make up on her face and screaming about “KNOCK LOSERS” when she was trying to pee.

He missed green grass, and misty rain, and lazy Saturdays. He missed Finstock grumping at him at teacher’s meetings and stuffed bunnies and his hoodies. God, he just missed home.

 

_Now I… I’m not sure if I’ll see another day_

_The doctor said it could go either way_

 

He didn’t know if Derek would show the kids this letter. He knew Derek screened the letters. (After the first letter written in a fit of absolutely untamable horniness which might have been slightly more than a little traumatically graphic for the kids.) He hoped Derek would. The kids needed to know just as much. He needed them to understand that this might be it. This might be the end. Stiles was a fighter, but even now, his breath was shaky and his eye sight blurry and his heart just hurt and he was so tired. But he needed to finish.

 

_But I just wanted you to know_

_No matter if I sink of fall or blink out in this hospital_

 

 

Because yeah. Dying sucked. However, everyone had known it was a possibility. Derek and his Dad and Scott would be sitting at their table in the cafe, each with their own reaction. Stiles could see it. Derek, face stoic as always, would subtly remove the glasses he’d needed about the time he hit thirty, would pass a hand over laugh-worn eyes, and tug at greying hair but wouldn’t cry. Not yet. His dad would have watery eyes in his wrinkled face. Would wipe his nose every now and then, with subtle sniffs. Scott would have his head on the table making all the noise the other two wouldn’t. No one in the dinner would say anything or judge tho- they all knew. They would weep for their town hero in their own time as well.

 

_That I’m alright, yeah I made peace with it all_

_Mistakes and all_

 

And surprisingly, he had. He realized, live or not, he was ok. He had made peace. With the month spent landing in the infirmity to flirt with grumpy civilian Hale. With the time he had accidentally on purpose lost his dad’s uniforms so he’d stay home a little longer. With convincing Scott that stealing sips from the gas station wasn’t a crime. With getting arrested by his dad for stealing sips, calling Derek to bail him out, and then having to explain that situation. With adopting four dogs and three kids on a whim because the dogs looked cold and the kids looked lonely and honest to god he hadn’t realized there was so much paper work or so many legal processes.

He might have apologised, but he wasn’t really sorry for getting drunk and Scott and Kira’s wedding and doing a strip tease on the dance floor. Or getting drunk and Boyd and Erica’s wedding and trying to make out with Danny because he and Derek were fighting and he wanted to make him jealous- and yes, the sex had SO been worth it. He was a little sorry for getting drunk and Lydia and Jackson’s…. union, but mostly because Lydia still terrified him and it had led to Issac and Allison banning him from alcohol when they got married. And he was not at all sorry for bringing his own and getting so sick he did the unspeakable thing that all videos got destroyed and no one talks about.

He didn’t regret embarrassing Jolene so much in her first pageant ever with his antics that she stopped them forever and went on to be an epic ballet dancer because he thought she was better then pageants and that she was a beast on the dance floor. He certainly wasn’t sorry for all those nights spent coaching Parker in the arts of lacrosse only to have his only son decide art was more his thing because honestly, he sucked at lacrosse as much as Stiles and the pictures he drew and painted where disturbingly provocative without having people or any type of sexual reference.

Mostly he didn’t regret Sam. Every fight, every bought of tears, every bad hair cut because Stiles sucked at hair, every tampon run had so been worth it to watch her grow into the fine young lady she was. She had shocked everyone by blossoming into a brilliant and beautiful terror instead of just a gross slimy terror. Stiles didn’t know what else to say. Wasn’t sure there was anything else to say.

He could feel his eyes drooping and his chest burning. He didn’t know what the next minute would bring. He hoped he got to go home. To see everyone again. Watch his kiddo’s graduate and get married and kiss Derek again and smack Scott and make his dad eat vegetables. But if he didn’t, well, he knew they’d be all right without him. He signed his letter with much love and his name and set it aside to be sent off….


	2. All is well (Its only blood)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Does Stiles make it home...  
> Alive?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> For [url=http://archiveofourown.org/users/Lidil] Lidil [/url] for making me get back around to this story.  
> :)

((Based on Radical Face's 'All is well (Its only blood)'))

 

_All is well now_  
 _Pay no mind_

Stiles wheezes, tries to cough but his lungs fill up- whether with blood, mucus or some other deadly fluid he isn't sure. All he knows is it hurts to breath something awful. He knew that back home his family and friends where gathering everything in a mad rush to run to the airport, not aware of what they were really in for. Hell, Stiles didn't even know really. All he knew was that after he'd died ( and geez, it wasn't like all those stories you hear...) they'd some how miraculously brought him back to life. Twice. They were sending him home now for good. He was officially a veteran at the tender age of 34, and would most likely never run a marathon. (Which he was not the least bit sorry about because running sucked and it had never been his strongest point and now he had an excuse to skip out on Derek's Mandatory Man Runs which happened whenever Derek felt like the guys were getting soft. News flash Derek, they were. That happened when you got old and had kids and dogs and made your parents grandparents.)

 

_All is well now_  
 _I'm just fine_  
 _I'm just fine_

He was waving his hand emphatically, trying to wave the doctors off as he struggled for air. His eyes watered and spotted but he held on, refusing to go unconscious like his burning chest was begging. If he did that, they would never put him on the plane and who knew how long before they would again clear him for travel. Sam turned 12 in one week and he had to be there for it. He just had to. He hit himself in the chest, eyes watering from a different kind of pain now, as he tried to force a cough. He slammed his chest once, twice, and again, and finally what ever had been blocking his lungs gurgled into his mouth. He reached for the piss bucket beside his bed and coughed up a clear fluid into it. The breath of relief around him was enough to bring back his own breath in short burst. He managed a grin, as he showed them the bucket. "No blood."

Aiden and Ethan, the twin doctors who had been tasked with him, both sighed.

"Stilinski. Its our jobs on the line if you die in that plane." Ethan said. Aiden barely dignified him with a cold glare. And Stiles got that. They'd been stuck with the troublesome patient- again. To say that they hated him was putting it rather mildly. Stiles understood why- more then once they'd had to rush out under a rainfall of bullets to drag his ass off to the infirmary. But he stood by his assertions that they could have always been gentler. To prove his point Aiden poked rather roughly at the edge of the bandage before ripping it off. Stiles would have screeched but he was too busy holding his breath so he didn't whimper like a girl. Ethan gave his brother a look before poking his own fingers into the tender wound. If Stiles keened like a kitten, well, it was his word against theirs.

"All good, no infection. Just be sure to keep sterilizing it when you get back state side."

Still trying to maintain his manliness Stiles simply nodded.

 

_It's only blood; I have plenty left_  
 _It's only blood; I just need to rest_

 

Aiden dosed him up with painkillers, reset the bandages and poked him again for good measure before leaving. Ethan lingered, and Stiles wanted to make a snappy comment, he really did, but he was tired and sore. Ethan was fiddling with some of the steri-wipes, twisting them in his hands.

"Dude, I think you're contaminating those wipes."  
Ethan scowled, before reaching into his pocket. Stiles flinched, which made the doctor roll his eyes. "You're all clear, I won't be shoving any more needles into you." Stiles stoically said nothing. Ethan handed him a crumpled up piece of paper- which upon closer inspection was a letter that had been folded and refolded a shit ton of times.

"You're gonna fall asleep in about thirty seconds, and while you're out they're gonna do a blood sample, but that letter... just give it to him alright?"

Stiles managed a nod, and was out in 25.

 

_I said I'd fix this_  
 _That I'd set things straight_

 

Stiles woke up the next day, crumpled note in his hand a new team of doctors around him. "Wer's EthananAiden?"  
He was mostly ignored. "Were are my usual Doctors?"  
This time someone glanced at him. "Their tour was up. They're going home. For good it looks like. You wore 'em out boy."

That confused Stiles but before he could ask any more questions he was being prepped for the flight home and all oddities were forgotten in favor of cleaning up and steadying himself to see his loved ones. It was a bit of a hassle because he wasn't cleared to walk and therefor had to ride a wheelchair. Also, he had a lot of random I.V.'s (yeah sure they had purposes....) they had to take out and the bandages had to be checked AGAIN. By the end of it all Stiles just wanted a nap.

Fortunately it was a fourteen hour plane ride and he had medications.

Unfortunately all he could do was anticipate the return crowd.

 

_You begged me not to_  
 _But I couldn't stay_  
 _Couldn't wait_

 

He knew that technically the doctors had wanted to keep him another week, and that his pestering had gotten him sent home sooner, despite Derek's wishes. However, as the plane lurched into motion, he was beginning to think everyone had been right. His chest, which was still missing a sizable chunk was clenching and burning and stabbing all at the same time and while he wasn't going to waste his ten he'd rate the pain at a solid 9.9. He was clenching the arm rest and gritting his teeth so hard the lady next to him thought he was having a heart attack... He wished. When she offered to call the flight attendant he shook his head.

Once he could breath again, albeit shallowly, he smile at her. "Just a little pain in the chest, that's all ma'am."  
She nodded, then pointed towards his BDU jacket. "Navy?"  
He nodded.  
She smiled. "My son was in the Navy. Couldn't tell me where he was stationed- top secrete and all. I didn't realize Navy did land."

Stiles nodded. "Mostly they don't, but a few of us get lumped in with the marines."

She smiled, though it was a little far off. "Yeah. He was shot in the chest, they said he died in his sleep."

She got quiet again and Stiles though (read hoped) that therein lay the end of the conversation.

 

_They cut me up, but I did them worse_  
 _And I'll be fine, I just need to rest_

 

It wasn't. She looked at him with such an intensity that he knew what was coming. "Please, don't think you have to spare a little old lady's feelings. I just wanna know. Does it hurt to die?"

Stiles didn't want to answer. Really, he hoped he never had to, but she needed this and who was he to deny it when she'd already buried her child?

"Ma'am. I'm not sure how it happened for your boy. But I know this. I died twice and neither experience was the same so I don't think it's the same for everyone. But I will say, at first, it isn't pleasant. Not even the least bit. Cause even when you're asleep you're brain is awake and it knows that somethings going wrong because you aren't breathing. So sometimes it doesn't hurt exactly, but you know it's coming and that is scary as hell. Nothing quite like realizing your body is giving up on you. However, once your brain process the facts, it gets a little easier. You're brain plays happy memories instead of focusing on what's not working. You remember your first memories again, smell homemade pies, and fresh cut grass. I remembered the smell of my mom's perfume which I had not smelled for something like 25 years."

He paused to see how she was reacting. She seemed to be processing it decently so he continued. "Somewhere along the montage of memories your realize your lungs have stopped expanding and you can't feel anything but the slowing heart rate. It's then, when you absolutely know it, that you start to feel sad, but you don't have much time and there are too many memories of love anyways and then poof, you're in that other place."

She was nodding, but Stiles knew she was off thinking about her son. He'd spoken the truth- or tried to at least, but dying sucked and it hurt and it was lonely and Stiles wanted to be out of his mind before he went through it ever again. He managed to fall asleep until the end of the flight. He woke as they were landing. The lady next to him patted his hand.

"That other place, was it as good as they say?"

Stiles paused. "I don't know. I was only there for a few seconds each time before they brought me back. You kinda float in nowhere land first. But it seemed like everything and more. I believe you're son is in a great place." And he did, he really did.

 

_All is well now_

 

Stiles was the last to leave the plane- what with needing a wheelchair and someone to collect his carry-on baggage for him. And despite his long nap he still felt worn out and achy. All he really wanted was to take some painkillers and knock back some whiskey and sleep for a month. He couldn't. Not yet, because even though he couldn't see them, Stiles could hear the bickering of Sam and Ariel, He could hear the high pitched squeals of Jolene as Parker, 22, still felt the need to be an annoying older brother. He could hear Derek trying to quiet them, and Scott and Kira correcting Ariel. He could hear Jackson whining about having to be there and Allison, Issac, Danny, and Lydia all reprimanding him. Stiles could hear it all, but he didn't hear his dad, and that worried him. His heart hurt, his lungs hurt, and an elephant was sitting on his chest but all he wanted was a hug from his old man. The crowds were thick though, impeding his reconnection with those he had missed.

  
 _All is well now_

 

The poor guy stuck carting him around was trying to get past the crowd, but there were a lot of soldiers coming home- one way or another, and people were mot too concerned with the guy in civilian clothing in the wheelchair. However, above the crowd, standing in the middle of the baggage carrousel, Stiles saw a man in a Sheriff's uniform, hands cupped around his mouth. He stared in awe as his dad commanded the crowds to part- and they did! 

 

  
 _All is well now_

 

And there they were. His family. This ginormous group in the middle of the airport, teenage and young adult children bickering, one man scowling and a lot of stern looks. It wasn't a movie, so there was no music, or slow motion running into the arms. Instead there was a slow ass wheelchair bumping along the pathway, a skittish looking group trying to decide how to approach the invalid, and a kid in a wheelchair who really wanted a movie scene. Derek, knowing Stiles, pulled out his phone and linked it to a radio. Some stupid pop song started playing but no one cared because as Stiles got closer Derek leaned down, pulled the wheel chair in close, and gave Stiles a kiss that got the whole damn group escorted out of the airport.

  
 _All is well now_

 

They were gathered at Lydia's when Stiles finally got a moment with Danny. He handed him the well worn note he'd had in his hand since he received it. Danny looked a little stand-off, but took it. 

"He was only nice to me when I told him about you. And I'm 'spose to tell you he's sorry, he's gonna make it up to you, and he never stopped loving you."

Danny just nodded and turned back to Jackson.

Stiles leaned back as far as his wound would allow and watch the mingling, feeling about as peaceful as he had in those brief moments in nowhere land. God he loved his family.


	3. Eavesdrop

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> This is about Ethan and Danny.  
> Based on The Civil Wars "Eavesdrop."
> 
> http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=7wW-0N347Y0

Danny stared at the paper in his hands, fingers tracing well-worn seams, noting somewhat frantically places where the paper was beginning to fray and open up into holes. As it turned out, the letter really wasn’t a letter. Not that he was super surprised. Ethan, for all that he was the more romantic of the twins, was less efficient with his words. He could do the big grand gestures, could make romantic montages to sickly sweet music, and recite poetry well enough to rival a Shakespearean Scholar. Just don’t ask him to write it himself.

Instead, the frayed paper that had traveled half way around the world (several times over according to the different inks used on it) held a list of coffee orders, pizza toppings, and locations. Danny recognized all of them too. Each one was reminiscent of a date long since gone. He could tell that Ethan had written them down at the time of the occurrence by the sharpie ink bleeding on some of them. Like the Valencia Orange Tea with a raspberry swirl pound cake slice. Danny had become irritated with Ethan for mocking his usual order of a shaken green tea and regular pound cake so he’d branched out. It had turned out to be quite disastrous, with the Tea being too sour to drink and the cake too sweet to stomach, and had ended like most dates with them had; Danny stealing half of whatever odd concoction Ethan had found online to order and them getting a Triple Pepperoni thin slice to share.

The last lines of the list though, were written in boring black ink and were clean, precise and utterly foreign to Danny. All they consisted of was a date three weeks into the future at quarter to midnight, a location close to where the whole group lived, and a request to “Wear something comfortable.” Or rather, the date had been three weeks into the future three weeks ago when Stiles’ had finally come home.

Now, Danny was sitting cross-legged on his bathroom floor, in an old Beacon Hill’s High shirt, and his boxer-briefs. He glanced at his watch, and sighed. Only Nine O’clock. He’d been sitting here for about an hour, stupid note clutched in his right hand. He rubbed his left hand over his face, and grimaced when he came across stubble. Danny liked to be clean shaven. Why, he wasn’t sure, but he assumed it had to do with spending fifteen years on and off with a Navy Medic who was required to be clean shaven. He had at some point become accustomed to morning shavings, and the hints of sexual tension that came with it. Even after he’d finally broken it off with Ethan- and what he had thought had been for good- Danny still couldn’t go about his day comfortably with stubble.

He stood up, and carefully folding the letter, opened the left sink drawer. He carefully tucked the note in there between and old blue toothbrush and a packet of Bic razor heads. Why anyone would use such crappy heads (from a company famous for pens no less!) Danny had never understood. He had not had the heart to throw them out a year ago either. He closed the drawer slightly harder than necessary and opened his drawer, drawing out his four-blade Gillette. Yes, the one with the ball that made it glide. Only, there was no teasing voice asking that question.

Danny decided in between the strokes on his right cheek and the strokes carefully dancing over his adam’s apple he’d at least go see what this was about. As soon as his face was clean and smooth, he slipped on the Beacon High sweatpants (and dear god Stiles, not everyone bulked out like you, some of us maintained our high school weight and Oh MY GOD yes they were slightly big on me then!) He debated between old Nike trainers and his loafers (yes, loafers, Ethan, some men like their sophistication) and ultimately decided since the note said “Comfortable” he would wear the loafers.

He glanced at the clock and sighed. He had managed to kill exactly thirty-two minutes and he still had two hours and thirteen minutes. For once in his life, Ethan wished for Stiles constantly moving brain so that he might have something distract him. Instead, he walked into the too-big kitchen in the house built for two, and made a sandwich on the counter that once housed small parties.

As he stood there eating, careful to land all crumbs on the napkin, Danny seriously considered selling the house for the first time. It had been a year, and he was so tired of coming home to the fully furnished, fully decorated living space alone. Yet, as he stared at a picture of him and Ethan, both soaked and livid looking at Stiles who was on the ground laughing, he knew he never would. There were twelve years of memories in this house. Certainly not all pleasant- their relationship had been a roller-coaster of fights and make-ups and endings leading to beginnings not always with each other.

But in the end, they had both thought that they were it. That there would never really be another filling specifically shaped heart holes. And as far as Danny was concerned, there was no one else. But just because no one could fill that space, didn’t mean that it needed to be filled necessarily.

He hadn’t meant to break things off- not necessarily anyways. It just, Ethan and Aiden were shipping out and Danny was embarking on a new career journey and he just- the fights in the last few months had bordered on volatile and he was tired. Ethan, as far as could be determined, had taken it rather harshly.Danny had been surprised by the despair his lover had shown, but in the end, Ethan did as he always had and left. And that was the last communication between the two of them.

Stiles had on occasion referenced the twins, but never more then to assure Danny they were alive and still tormenting him. Though he had never explicitly stated it, Danny was sure Stiles knew he was thankful.

At some point, Danny had begun to wander the house, looking at old pictures, and reading old sticky notes. He fluffed up an old wolf Ethan had won for him at a fair, and carefully traced the broken edges of a ninja star Danny had given him from an old flea market. During his musings, he had stumbled across the one letter he’d revived from Ethan in all of his tours. It was a picture of him with his brother Aiden and Aiden's new wife Braeden. The two had been married during a particularly heated break between Danny and Ethan so he hadn’t gone to the wedding, but they had made up a week before their departure. Braeden was a U.S. Marshall who’d ended up in Beacon Hill’s on a strange serial killer case. For the most part the group had willingly welcomed her- except for Stiles.

Stiles didn’t like the way she preened over Derek and he claimed that he knew she would sell them all out for the right prices. Still, she had made a wonderful addition to their little gang, and after waiting the state mandated five years, she and Aiden had welcomed Malia into their home. Malia had been on her own since she was eight, after her mother, Kate and father, Peter had gone on some sort of psychotic killing spree. She had been a feral child of about twelve, but she had instantly clicked with Braeden. By the time their son Liam was born, Malia was a calm and centered girl of fifteen. She was now a bombshell of eighteen and three year old Liam was more attached to his large extended family then one would expect a boy of three to be.

Danny glanced at the clock. He still had an hour and twenty nine minutes: Which really equaled an hour since it took eighteen minutes to drive to the location and eleven to walk to the specified river bank. Danny sighed once more, and then went to the guest bedroom. He laid on the small twin bed, making sure his alarm was set with exactly eight minutes to spare before he needed to leave.

Like he had every night since Ethan had walked out of his life (because of Danny,) Danny slept fitfully. He longed for the large California kind in the master bedroom, but it just felt empty without Ethan. At thirty-seven minutes till quarter till, Danny’s phone buzzed. He woke with a start and glanced around blearily.

It took him a minute to wake up and get his bearings and get him to the bathroom. It took three minutes for him to get his hair mused up just right, and two minutes to properly brush his teeth. One minute to psych himself up and he used his last minute to get in the car before he could rethink all of this.

The drive, as predicted, took eighteen minutes, all of which were spent carefully flipping through radio stations and note focusing on the major event spanning before him. The eleven minute walk to the river bank had him questioning everything and wondering if maybe he shouldn’t just turn around already. However, as he approached the bank, he saw two flickering flames coming from candles caught inside of paper balloons. There was a blanket weighted down by four small baskets, and a man just as nervous as he was.

Danny took a minute to appreciate the sight before him. Ethan was every bit as short and buff as he remembered, and his hair was buzzed the exact same length. He was wearing a darkly colored button up shirt, and dark jeans, which had always been his preferred civilian clothing. Surprisingly his feet were bare. His back was to Danny, but even still, Danny could perfectly imagine the small curved moth and the dark mischievous eyes. Ethan was doing something, and his hands were going in and out, like he was gesturing for a speech he wasn’t quite comfortable with.

Danny approached him, saying nothing, feet quietly plodding along the sandy back. Even so, years of training had made Ethan’s hearing scary good and before Danny was half there he turned. Ethan gave him a nervous smile and half raised his hand before he clutched them together. He waited for Danny to get close before he spoke.

“You know, I don’t think sophisticated men wear old sweats with their loafers.”

He grimaced almost as soon as the words were out of his mouth. Danny, for his part, simply laughed.

“No, I don’t suppose they do.”

Almost immediately Ethan looked relieved, before looking nervous again. For a minute they both stood there, taking each other in. Aside from some wrinkles around the eyes, and some definition of the face on Danny’s part, neither had really changed.

A lone wolf howled in the distance, starling each male out of their silent study. Nervousness bled back in to the air as Ethan studied his set up. As with all his schemes he had made all the plans, except for where to begin.

Finally, and rather ungracefully, he plopped onto the blanket patting a space next to him.

Danny eyed the spot, before carefully folding himself into a space slightly farther away, his butterfly legs something his yoga instructor would be proud of. If Ethan noticed the extra space he said nothing. Instead he seemed to take a minute to settle himself before he crawled towards the first basket. He opened it, and produced a small box. Danny took it and was about to open it.

“Not yet!!”

He started, and then frowned as he glanced at Ethan who was sitting on his knees. Ethan removed his BDU’s from the basket and set them in front of Danny.

“This is stage one of our relationship.”

Danny stared at him quizzically.

“Open the box now.”

Danny did, but all that sat there was Ethan’s U.S. Navy pin.

“Seventeen years ago, Aiden and I moved to Beacon Hill’s to finish high school. While there, I met and subsequently fell in love with this absolutely beautiful but geeky computer guy who was so busy with his own friends, had no time for me.”

Danny frowned, but Ethan put a hand up to stop him.

“It was ok, because at the end of that year, I befriended his friend with a strange name as we bonded over the fear and apprehension of leaving everything behind to embark on a new adventure crossing seas and continents. During that time I was introduced to the spaztic teen’s friends, and I got to get closer to the computer whiz.”

“That’s not when we started-“

Ethan frowned and waved his hands.

“Please do not interrupt. I’ll lose steam.”

He sighed, but stayed quiet.

Ethan scrambled over to the next box, pulling out a stack of ribbon bound envelopes, and several marked up takeout menus.

“The computer whiz decided to take a chance on the new teen, and he wrote him letters during every. Single. Tour. Ever, which made the new navy kid kind of embarrassed but super secretly happy. Whenever the navy medic came home the two would spend almost every minute together arguing Thai versus Indian versus Chinese only to go with pizza or Italian because of reasons named Stiles. However, when they were alone, they always got both Thai and Indian, and then said ‘Never again it is totally Chinese next time.’ We have not once in seventeen years had Chinese together which is a problem to be remedied.”

Ethan reached back into the basket pulling out tubs of Wonton Soup, and General Tso Chicken. He brandished two paper plates, and two Styrofoam cups for the soup, and two sets of plastic ware.

“I know this isn’t the fine china you prefer, but you know me- you’re lucky I’m using anything.”

He grinned sheepishly and Danny offered a small smile, still distracted by the bundle of letters dating back sixteen years. He had not realized just how many letters there were, and he knew some were as simple as a “Hope all is well, Danny.” There were postcards tucked in there from various vacations and he knew there were pictures tucked into some of them.

Both of them sat with the food between them, but neither really seemed hungry. Still, Danny managed a few sips of Wonton soup, pleased Ethan had remembered his favorite from a place they had literally never gone. Ethan picked at the chicken briefly before moving onto the third box.

He pulled out a plastic box that rattled with each movement. Danny was completely confused before Ethan removed the lid. Inside where the remnants of an old flowered vase and what Danny though was the shards of an obsidian glass cat.

“Our first big major fight came about when I was leaving for my third tour in three years. You were angry because you thought I was running from us- from the relationship we were building. You panicked as I walked towards the door- and remember you were still recovering from that Mistletoe poisoning I blamed myself for- and as you lurched towards me you bumped the table in the hallway knocking over that atrocious vase Stiles had bought us. Neither of us liked it, but it was our first “couple” gift and you were so upset and I just didn’t know what to do so I walked out.”

Ethan looked extremely embarrassed, but more than that, Danny noticed a deep regret in his dark eyes. Either that, or some strange shadow cast by the candles. Ethan opened the box and pulled out the intact ear of the cat.

“Our last fight, when I was about to leave, you wanted me to stay again, but for a different reason. We were settled in, and settling down, and I was getting to old for these games, and you just wanted me home safe. I got mad, I though you didn’t trust me to take care of myself. I lashed out and grabbed this stupid obsidian cat that, once again, Stiles had bought us and I launched it. Not at your head, but close enough that one of the flying shrapnel shards slide your face.”

Danny reached up and traced the thing scar on his right cheek. You had to know it was there to see it. Ethan reached out his hand, tracing Danny’s fingers, causing the skin to heat up.

“This time is was you who walked away- and for the first time you asked me never to come back. Devastated, I did what I did best and fled.”

Ethan carefully placed the shard back in the box, and began returning everything to the basket he’d retrieved it from. Danny fingered the letters once more before handing them back to Ethan.

“You kept everything?”

Ethan nodded.

“Except the condoms.” He quipped. Danny seemed unimpressed.

Shyly Ethan rubbed his hands together. “Listen Danny, you weren’t the only participant of that relationship. You may not think so, but I was just as invested as you. I kept just as many souvenirs of it, and I still have every hoodie, tee-shirt, and pair of briefs I borrowed from you.” He paused, and then gave a quiet laugh. “I bet our house used to be crammed full of mementos you kept. Bet it was a mess to clean up to sell.”

Danny shook his head, as his heart clutched painfully at the empty space the man before him had left.

“Is.”

He leaned in a little, adjusting his position so his face was inches from Ethan’s and he could trace those cupid bow-lips with his eyes. Ethan breathed shallowly.

“What?”

Danny leaned in again, and shuffled his body closer, his nose trailing Ethan’s.

“Our house is crammed full of souvenirs.”

Ethan made a surprised noise- something between a hiccup and an exhale. Ever since Danny had moved in, he’d stayed frozen where he was. Even as Danny leaned over, his arms framing Ethan’s hips and his knees knocking with Danny’s. Danny ran his lips ever so slightly against Ethan’s cheek, reveling in the smooth skin that had always smelled faintly of sand and salt. He pressed a kiss just under his ear.

“I never could get rid of you, or anything relating to you. Even that damned bed that’s too big for one.”

At this point he had successfully if not somewhat awkwardly managed to get Ethan on his back, Danny’s arms holding him up creating the only space between them. For once, Ethan seemed off-kilter.

“Y-yeah?”

“Yeah-“ Danny breathed.

All at once, a song from the past hit him and he began to hum the lines.

It immediately registered with Ethan, and it was as if there was a radio playing it for them under the California moon.

_I don’t want to talk right now_

_I just want your arms wrapped around_

_Me in this moment_

_Before it runs out_

Ethan moved first from their frozen stance, hands shakily tracing the skin peeking out between Danny’s top and bottoms. Danny sighed into the felling, falling to his elbows as his lips traveled back down Ethan’s jaw. Ethan altered his head, baring his neck for Danny to continue his travels as his hands slowly traveled up the broad stomach taking the shirt with him. Danny let Ethan’s hands stray towards his back as he chased his own kisses across Ethan’s neck.

_Oh don’t say that it’s over_

_Oh no say it ain’t so_

“I never could forget you. Not once.”

“There never was anyone else. Not once in sixteen years.”

_Let’s let the stars watch_

_Let them stare_

This was not unlike times from their past, where they’d been risque and tempted the fates in the old park, or had attempted skinny-dipping sex. (No. Just no.) But now seemed different, it wasn’t this hurried moment fueled by teenage lust. This was the reconnecting of two souls who’d been drifting for so long.

_Let the wind eavesdrop_

_I don’t care_

This was two lovers on a bank only they knew about. Fingers danced across skin, slowly lifting shirts off. Kisses traced lines made by age, and eyes took in sights too long unseen.

_For all that we’ve got,_

_don’t let go_

_Just hold me_

It took a while for the pants and underwear to follow the shirts. Mostly because just having the other in their arms was enough. They had missed the contact, had missed skin against skin just lying there, watching the night sky and the moon dance across the waters.

_I can’t pull you closer than this_

_It’s just you and the moon on my skin_

But once the pants where off, there was no space between them. The moon shined off Danny’s olive skin in a peculiar way, and the only word Ethan could attach to the man above him was ethereal.

_Oh who says it ever has to end_

_Oh don’t say that it’s over_

_Oh no say it ain’t so_

No more words were spoken for a long time, but words were unnecessary as fingers intertwined and lips clashed. Legs wrapped tightly around, and movement was impossible. The kisses went on forever, saying everything that needed to be. The “I’m sorries.” “Me too.” The “only yous.” And “Love? Yeah. I love yous.”

_Let’s let the stars watch_

_Let them stare_

There, under the august skies, Danny and Ethan consummated their love in way they never had before. Every single movement was infused with a love that couldn’t be put into words.

_Let the wind eavesdrop_

_I don’t care_

For every outcry, every keening, every groan, there was no embarrassment. There was no one but the moon to witness their undoing, and had there been another witness, well, they couldn’t find it in them to be ashamed anyways.

_For all that we’ve got,  don’t let go_

_Just hold me_

Every thrust was punctuated with nails in the skin pulling them closer. Every time lips closed around one bit of skin, teeth dragged across another. It was as slow as it was hurried; As heated as it was gentle.

_Let’s let the stars watch_

_Let them stare_

Ethan had always been the more voyeuristic of the two- having grown up with a twin brother privacy was a foreign concept to him. Tonight, however, it was Danny pushing the boundaries. It was Danny encouraging the noises and movements. Danny was the instigator and he had every plan of finishing what he started. And despite his position on top of Ethan, it was Ethan’s dick that was driving him closer and closer to that edge of complete release.

_Let the wind eavesdrop_

_I don’t care_

Danny didn’t know when he had become vocal, or when it had become more than a whisper. Danny didn’t care. Ethan watched his lover with hooded eyes, and had his hands not been fused to Danny’s hips he might have traced the lips moving above him. As it was he attached his own to Danny’s pulse point, appreciating the breathless intake it caused.

_For all that we’ve got, don’t let go_

If this moment never ended, neither male would have minded.

_Just hold me_

_Just hold me_

_Just hold me_

_Just hold me_

_Just hold me_

At some point Ethan had taken over Danny’s mantra and Danny did his best to oblige despite his awkward stance above him. He moved one hand to grab one of Ethan’s, and then moved the other so both hands were captured. He sat up and Ethan whined at the sudden shift in position. Danny smiled shifting so both wrists were held in his hands. He then slowly leaned back down, trapping Ethan’s wrists above him and captured Ethan’s lips with his own, swallowing every beautiful noise it made.

_I don’t want to talk right now_

_I just want your arms wrapped around_

_Me in this moment_

_Before it runs out_

They stayed there for a long time, Danny’s position limiting their movement. Ethan’s chest rose and fell rapidly, and his eyes remained screwed shut, but Danny seemed much calmer. More in control of himself and his actions.

_Oh don’t say that it’s over_

_Oh no say it ain’t so_

He assumed it had always been this was- Ethan had always been a little quicker to the punch, whereas Danny liked to tease, and draw things out.

_Let’s let the stars watch_

_Let them stare_

_Let the wind eavesdrop_

_I don’t care_

Danny also just didn’t care anymore. His usual reserved manner had flown away somewhere between walking up on the scene on the bank and his fingers tugging off Ethan’s shirt. Hell, Danny was the one putting the words out there for the wind to hear. He didn’t care. She had no one to tell anyways.

_For all that we’ve got, don’t let go_

_Just hold me_

Despite his captured wrist, Ethan managed to raise his chest to meet Danny’s drawing the taller male down on him. He moved his legs, which had been spread on the blanket, up, hitching them on Danny’s hips.

_I can’t pull you closer than this_

He couldn’t. But he sure could try.

_It’s just you and the moon on my skin_

Every time either of them managed to open their eyes, the eerie glow of the moon reflecting off the sweat sheen of their lover reminded them of a being so not from this earth.

_Oh who says it ever has to end_

_Oh don’t say that it’s over_

_Oh no say it ain’t so_

Maybe Danny was wrong. Maybe that hole in his chest did need to be filled.

_Let’s let the stars watch_

_Let them stare_

Danny didn’t know much about god, or heaven or anything. But he did believe in Something. And whatever that Something was, it didn’t seem to mind the two men in such a primitive act beneath it.

_Let the wind eavesdrop_

_I don’t care_

It had made no movements to stop them.

_For all that we’ve got, don’t let go Just hold me_

The whole world seemed to have disappeared. There was no noise. No light other than the flickering candles, and the stars, and the moon. Even the rustle of the water had seemed to vanish beneath the guttural sounds coming from the joined pair.

_Let’s let the stars watch_

_Let them stare_

_Let the wind eavesdrop_

_I don’t care_

Danny almost hoped there was a God watching them. He almost wished the wind would carry their declarations across the world for everyone.

_For all that we’ve got, don’t let go_

It was Danny who reached release first, one cry as he spilled across Ethan’s stomach. That was all the urging Ethan needed before he was spilling inside Danny. After that, the two collapsed into each other.

_Just hold me_

Danny whispers it into Ethan’s ear.

_Just hold me_

Ethan promises it against Danny’s neck.

_Just hold me_

They lie in silence, their breaths slowly evening out. Their sticky substance cementing them together.

_Just hold me_

They finally move when Danny shivers in the cool breeze. Neither one knew where it had come from. Just hold me Even as they clean themselves up with their shirts dipped in river water, they remain close. Once they are as clean as they are going to get, and have their pants back on, they lay next to each other. One hand gripping the other, resting between their bodies. For a long time they are silent.

Ethan isn’t sure where to go next. Danny doesn’t want it to end, because reality.

Then Danny has a thought.

He sits up, carefully, because despite the momentous occasion that had just happened, his body hadn’t had that in a year so it wasn’t quite used to it. He sits cross-legged, and tugs Ethan’s head into his lap.

“What’s in the fourth box?”

“Hm…?”

“There are four baskets. I saw the contents of the first three… what’s in the fourth?”

Ethan sleepily nuzzles his head into Danny’s thigh.

“Look.”

Danny huffs, but he leans back and grabs it, tugging it close with his free hand. He peels back one side of the covering, and then pauses. It looks empty. He reaches his hand in, and comes into contact with a piece of paper.

 

“What is it?” Ethan sighs, his voice muffled from its proximity to the cloth covering Danny’s leg.

“Read it moron.”

“Jerk.”

He can feel Ethan smile. Carefully he unfolds the letter. All it says is “So?”

“I don’t get it.”

“There is something else in the basket.”

Danny sighs as he reaches back in. At first he doesn’t feel anything, but then his fingers collide with a piece of cardboard. He traces the shape, and realizes there is some kind of cardboard box in there. Carefully he pulls it out. Ethan shifts so he is lying on his back, head up towards Danny, both of his clutching the one Danny lent him. Danny stares down at the small box.

“Open it.”

Danny obliges. Inside is a small velvet box. Danny doesn’t dare breath. He tugs his hand free, holding the box in both hands.

Inside is a simple little ring, and black platinum band.

“Well?”

Danny laughs. “I said you had to ask and you said you weren’t one for proposals. So is this you asking me to marry you?”

Ethan quirks a brow but stays silent. There is no one watching but the stars and no one listening but the wind, but with every fiber of his being, with every emotion in his body, with all the breath in his lungs, Danny leans down and puts his lips just over Ethan’s. “Yeah. Yeah I think I will.”


End file.
